Disclaimer: Not mine…

Summary: Everybody apparently knows Kyle is hot as hell…except Kyle. Set as HS Seniors. Style. Stan's POV. Rated T for language and mild sexual activity.

Author's Notes: RPed with Flabz over a period that kept me up until dawn!! I was Stan, she was Kyle. Enjoy!!


Hi. My name's Stan. Stan Marsh. I'm 18, I live in South Park, Colorado, I get alright grades in school, I play quarterback for the football team, and I've had a huge crush on my best male friend since I was 12. The worst part is, even after all the hints and clues I, and damn near everybody else, have left him, he still doesn't know.

We're over at his house, on his bed, working on English homework. Something about stupid sonnets. Yet another curse lain upon the world by William Shakespeare. Our stupid bitch of an English teacher expects every member of the class to write one and turn it in.

I, however, am not doing my English assignment. I am staring at Kyle, watching him do HIS English assignment. It's so cute, the way he scrunches up his nose and furrows his brow when he hits a snag in his rhyming scheme. Finally, I can't take it any more. I'm gonna find out what Kyle thinks about ME, know matter what!

"What would you do if I ass-raped you?" I blurt out.

"You wouldn't be able to," he replies, not looking up.

"Oh?" I ask. "And why not, Kyle?"

"Because, my dear Stanny," he answers, "you can not 'rape' the willing."

"Oh!" I say. It's almost too good to be true!! "You mean!?! Kyle!?! Really!?!" I can't even form coherent sentences, so gleeful am I. That sure as hell doesn't last long.

"WHOAH!!" Kyle exclaims, finally looking up at me. "WAIT! WERE YOU BEING SERIOUS?!?"

I can't help but blush, and weakly shoot back "What!? Erm...Were YOU being serious?!?"

"You answer me first!" he insists. "Were YOU being serious? What on earth would make your mind even THINK about ass raping me?"

"Because you have the hottest ass in the school," I reply honestly. "Hell, CARTMAN would tap that. The most homophobic homophobe anywhere wouldn't be able to resist that!"

"Dude, I don't even want that image of Cartman," he says. "So. You really think that huh? You really think 'Wow, Kyle's ass is hot' hotter then any girls? You'd rather that, over a girl's?" Erm…duh?

"No, I don't think 'Wow, Kyle's ass is hot.' I think, 'Hot DAMN, Kyle's ass is SOOOOOO fucking HAWT!' Besides. None of our girls even have asses, for the most part," I reply, fully aware of how that will sound to him.

"Do you realize just how gay that sounds Stan?" he asks. Yep. I was right.

"Yeah," I say. "So?"

"'So?'" he asks. "Well dude...is that an image you want? Will you be doing some girl one day and think 'I wish this was Kyle'?"

"Why should I have to 'wish' it was Kyle?" I shoot back. "You yourself just said you can't rape the willing…"

"STAN, I DIDN'T THINK YOU WERE SERIOUS!" Oh shit. He's panicking. Not good, not good not good…

"Well then you needn't be so loose with your mouth, Kylie-poo," I joke. "You're seriously saying you don't want me?"

"'Kylie-poo', what the hell, where di-?" he asks, attacking the first part of my last statement before "WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'DONT WANT YOU'!?! WHAT ON EARTH MADE YOU THINK I DID WANT YOU? I TOLD YOU I THOUGHT WE WERE JUST JOKING THEN!" Yep. He's panicking.

"You mean you don't want me to kiss you breathless, run my fingers through your hair, kiss my way down your body and do sinful things to you?" I say this with the beginnings of a smirk creeping onto my face. As bad as it is for him, he's so damn CUTE when he's panicky…

"Wha...no…I...err... of course I do-...N'T ... errr ... DUDE! No... I mean... ahh... NO, I'M NOT GAY!" It's almost amusing to watch him fumble for words. I think, somewhere deep down inside, I've struck a chord with him. The question now is, how far can I push him before he either throws me out or kills me.

I smirk. "You don't want me moaning your name in your ear? Cuddling with you after homework every night? Knowing why I'm checking you out in the showers?"

"No…I…You aren't... We won't... err... Dude..." More stuttering. Oh, Kyle…I want you SO bad right now. "WAIT, WHAT? CHECKING ME OUT IN THE SHOWERS? WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN?"

"Oh, since about sixth grade," I flippantly reply.


"No, Kyle...YOU were watching Backdoor Sluts X," I reply, keeping calm. "I, on the other hand, was watching you watch Backdoor Sluts X, and wishing I could be your right hand."

"No way," Kyle reacts. "Tell me you're lying. Tell me you're pullin' out all the tricks to get me. Please don't say you did THAT to me the other night! But ... what about before that? Any other time we watched-... Stan... you didn't, did you? Oh My Fucking God! YOU DID!" I hang my head in shame. Perhaps telling him I fantasize about him when we watch porn because it's the only way I can get off with straight porn was a bad idea…

"Yes. I did," I say. "I was hoping you'd picked up on this before hand, Kyle. You're usually the intuitive one. But no...so fixated on getting clean in the shower, you missed me, Kenny, and pretty much ALL the guys staring at you. So fixated on getting off when we watch porn, you missed me staring longingly at you. Kyle, if this behavior goes back to sixth grade, it's NOT an elaborate trick."

"Oh my God." He's still incredulous. "No way. I don't believe you. I CAN'T believe you! That's just unbelievable. So you've been? This whole time? Why didn't I see this?"

I frown. "Because you were blinded so well by the heterosexual world around you, you never thought to check for attraction from your same sex," I answer.

"Stan... But I'm ... I've never been attracted to guys... I mean... It's just... Odd... Stan, It's... it's just an odd thought thinking of YOU doing those things to me. You kissing me, you touching me. It's just...I dunno." Again with the inarticulate Kyle, this time accompanied by an exasperated flinging up of the hands.

I set my jaw and stare down at my lap, where my hands lay folded. "I understand, Kyle. Well, it was a long shot at best...just say the word and we can finish this English assignment and I can go home and cut myself." Tonight's gonna require some extra time with Good Old Mr. Straight (Haha) Razor.

"Stan..." he says, "I don't wanna hurt you... But it's a confusing thought is all! You've had a lot more time to think about this. I've only known for less then half an hour... but... I suppose we could..." Oh no. That won't work, and I tell him so.

"No, no, Kyle...I won't do this just on a 'suppose.' It would hurt, all the more if I started and you stopped me. Don't you see how that would make me feel? So close to what my heart yearns for, and then stopped just short? Either we do it or we don't. It's not like the cutting hurts anymore...it's actually become routine," I tell him. He looks shocked.

"What? 'Routine'? What the hell do you mean by that? GIVE ME YOUR ARM!!" he insists, grabbing me and almost ripping my sleeve off. There are a few of the more recent scars. Why THAT arm…? "What. The. Hell. Stan, what the hell are you thinking, look at these! They're so deep... You fucking idiot! WHAT IF YOU HIT A VEIN? WHAT IF YOU BLEED YOURSELF TO DEATH? How…wha...You IDIOT! WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!!... FOR ME!! WHATEVER! STAN?" Goddamnit. Now he wants an EXPLANATION for all this. Fuck. Might as well tell him the whole truth…

"It's not just that arm," I say. "All over...there's six years worth of self-inflicted wounds on me. Most of the older ones have faded, but even the deepest ones don't produce the pain I feel when I look at you, Kyle. It started because I thought like you do, I'm not like this, you're not like this, we're not like this, and I needed to hurt myself in punishment. But now...I'm just ashamed."

"Wha-?" he says. "All over? What the hell?" This time there's no stopping him, and I just sit still as he rips my shirt off and flings it somewhere over near the door. "Jesus Christ... Stanley... This... These aren't real, they can't be," he says in a whisper, lightly tracing a finger over one of the larger scars on my chest. "Oh... God... Stan... Stanley... YOU HAVE NOTHING TO BE ASHAMED OF! How could I be so blind? How could I not notice these things? Stan...I can't even find the words... OH STAN!" he exclaims, throwing himself onto me, crying his eyes out. My arms come up around him in a comforting embrace, as I try to come up with SOMETHING to reassure him.

"Kyle! Oh, God...Kyle. Don't worry, I'm here, I'm fine...it's not your fault. I should have been more open, I should have been more forward, I should have told you...oh, God, Kyle...please don't cry!" There. I'll place more of the blame on MY shoulders. That should help, at least…

"'Not my fault'??" he asks, shocked, pulling back to look at me. "IT'S ALL MY FAULT!! Jesus Stan, look what I've done to you, I've hurt you emotionally and physically! Oh God, why didn't I do anything? What kind of best friend am I? How could I do this to some one I love so dearly?" Something warm and fuzzy begins to fill me with that last statement, even though the rational part of me cautions that the jury's still out on what it actually means.

"You haven't done anything to me," I say. "I was the one with the razor, not you. I swear to both our Gods that it is NOT your fault. Kyle, my love...please. Don't beat yourself up over this. The only thing you did was be Kyle. Everything stems from that. Because it's Kyle I love, and Kyle I want, and Kyle who's so beautiful and unattainable and perfect that I feel hideous and ugly around him." I can't meet his gaze anymore, and decide to stare instead at the products of my love that grace my body.

"It was me, being who I am that caused you to even have the razor in the first place!" he says. He's right…he's always right. "Oh... So many nights when I tried calling you and you never answered, no wonder. 'Hideous and ugly'? Oh Stan, why would you think that? You're amazing Stan, you're so kind and caring, you always put others before yourself. 'Ugly'? Absolutely not!! You're beautiful, with your gorgeous dark hair that falls just over your eyes, and your eyes, oh don't even get me started on them, an amazing ocean blue that anyone would get lost in! You're athletic, with a perfect body. Anyone would be stupid not to want you, Stan." Back come the warm fuzzies. Unfortunately, they're not what speaks next. My fucking rational brain…Goddamnit, why can't it let me enjoy one of the few good moments of the past six years?

"Don't call yourself stupid Kyle...we both know that's not true," I find myself saying. "Number one in our class, red hair that you could lose your hand in, slight build, not wiry but not too muscular, tanned, smooth, perfect skin, eyes the color and brightness of shining emeralds. And THEN there's your ass. God...and not a scar on you. Immaculate. Flawless. God, Kyle..." I have every part of that body memorized, and I can tell you EXACTLY what changes have been wrought, and when, to it over the past six years. My love is THAT deep and unending.

"Oh Stan, I am stupid... What the hell does being number one in class mean anyway?" he asks. "What good is any of that in life? Nothing... I kick on through the day to be have a good time with you! To see a smile on your face. But that smile was forced wasn't it? Little did I know what really was going on in your head, what you dreamed of doing with me. Stan, I want to see you happy, for real!" Fuck the rational part of my brain. I'm gonna go with the warm fuzzies right now. Now HE'S the one who's extended himself too far to pull back from this. Role Reversal for the win!

"You'd do it?" I ask. "For me? God...I don't deserve you in the slightest. Not as a friend or a partner...for someone as good of a person as you to want to be with such a fucked-up dumbass as me...it just defies description, Kyle. You're a hundred times better than the best person I could ever be in anyone's eyes." Huh. Apparently the warm fuzzies can't counteract this learned instinct to self-deprecate.

"Stan, you deserve me more than anyone!" Kyle insists, taking my hands in his. "No one can make me smile like you, no one can ever make me happy like you, no one can make me laugh like you…and no one could ever love me like you. You're no dumbass Stan, and to hell with what anyone else thinks! To me, you're perfect... Yes, I'll do it for you, not out of pity or anything like that, but for this amazing feeling I have for you. Stan, I'll never care for anyone more than I what I do for you. I've never quite understood it, but I do now... I understand it completely." Oh, Kyle…you're so wonderful.

"Oh...God...Kyle! I love you so very fucking much!!! I have so much I want to do with you...God, where the hell do I start? I suppose...we should kiss first. Otherwise...God...my mind is just overloaded..." And that's no lie. All the possibilities for our future that have clouded my dreams for the past six years have just rushed back into my conscious thoughts like a tidal wave.

"I love you too Stan... A kiss sounds good, in fact it sounds very good... But, let's not rush into anything to quick... I'm kinda new at this!" A chuckle. Well, I guess that's true, but Kyle's a quick kid. He'll pick up quickly, I hope…

"I'll go as slow as I can, love," I say. "If you don't want me doing something, just say so. I've waited six years. I'm used to it by now." That said, I take his face in my hands and kiss Kyle passionately.

When the kiss is broken, he raises his eyebrows. "Don't worry, you won't have to wait too long!" he says. Yes!!

"I'd better not!" I reply, going in for another kiss. God, I could kiss him forever and a day and never get tired of it.

"I promise, my love," he says when I let him breathe again.

"Mm, good!" I say, before reattaching our mouths for more kissing. "Then I suppose it's only fair to this if you take YOUR shirt off too!!" Seeing as how I've been shirtless for about five minutes now, and his is kinda rough when it rubs against some of the fresher scars.

"Hehe," he chuckles, "Well, I suppose I can do that! Maybe a little more if you like!" As he says that, he does something I'll never get angry at him for and knocks the English work outta the way.

"All in good time, my dear Kyle," I say, teasing. "All in good time...it's not like its anything I haven't seen, at any rate." Which is true. Part of the "stared-at-him-for-six-years-in-the-shower" bit.

"Hey, it's not like we're going all the way here!" he says, and I frown a little. "But I thought you wanted a lil more! Are you telling me you don't?" Oh, HELL no…

"Kyle. I have waited for this moment for over half a decade. Of COURSE I want a little more...like at LEAST second base," I say.

"Then why the hell are we still talking??" he asks, attacking my mouth with his own.

I pull Kyle in close for a full-fledged make-out session, arms wrapped around his middle and head to keep him close. I am obviously savoring the moment. His hair's so soft, and his warm body feels so good against mine…and his lips! I don't know how much practice he's had with this, but my Jew is a helluva kisser.

Five minutes later, Kyle squirms out of the attack, panting.

"Mmm…Stan…I know you're happy but... Give me a chance... to breathe...Jesus, Dude!" he exclaims. "You'd think this is our last kiss and life is about to end!" He's flushed and panting. I think we just gave Oral Sex a new definition: Making out so hot it simulates all the effects of penetrating sex without the physical climax. MY mind's sure as hell been blown away by this. I'm willing to wager that his has too.

"Live for the moment, Kyle!" I say. "You'd think we'd know by know that life can end at any second, from hanging around Kenny. C'mon...indulge me! And are your pants getting a little tight too or is it just me?" Oh yes…pants are very much too tight. I haven't been this aroused since…well…ever, I don't think. Although watching him in the throes of his orgasm when he was jerking off to porn comes close. Hell, THAT was so hot I had to jack off AGAIN after I got home.

"Oh we never have died like Kenny, we've come close to it, but hey Kenny comes back at least, so it wouldn't matter!" Kyle says enthusiastically, peering down to survey his "situation." "Heh, perhaps they are getting a little tight, but the way you're going at me, I'm surprised you haven't ripped them off me yet!" I wince.

"You said take it slow!!" I say. "Besides...how'll you stop me FROM going All The Way if I rip your pants off?" There's almost NO way I'd be able to restrain myself if I was suddenly presented with a Fully Naked Kyle.

"Well... 6years, you deserve something." Well. I like THAT line of thought. I like it very much! "Well, you love me, and would never do anything I didn't want...I love and trust you Stan!" Oh Kyle…I hope I'm truly deserving of that trust.

"Of course I wouldn't do anything you didn't want, I'm just sayin...can my love for you overcome my WANT for you?" I ask, quasi-rhetorically.

"I hope it does!" he says, and there's another hint of that panic in his eyes again. "Seeing that I don't want 'that' yet, you'd never force me, and you'd come to your senses and realize what you're doing, because you love me. But if you really doubt you can handle that... then perhaps we shouldn't do too much! It's entirely your choice Stan!" Uh-uh. I'm not getting out of here without ANY type of sex at ALL…

Sheepishly, I ask, "Can I at least suck you off? I know that's third base, but...like you said. Six years, I deserve SOMETHING." I'm blushing deep as I say it, and I know I've won when he smiles deeply and chuckles.

"You're too cute, and sweet for asking instead of just 'doing'. Of course you can, hehe yes, 6years, you deserve it!" All-fucking-right then!!

"Oh, God, thank you...Maybe next time we can work on getting home..." I won't pressure him or anything but…living with him and wearing his ass as a hat for all eternity does NOT sound at ALL like a bad proposition to me right now.

I proceed to trail kisses down Kyle, pausing occasionally when I find a spot that brings him enough pleasure to gasp and moan my name, undoing his belt and zipper with my teeth before sliding the pants off for access to my prize. And don't think that after six years of fantasizing about him and watching him work it himself that I don't know what the hell to do with it! Oh, I know EXACTLY what I'm doing…

"Mmmm, Stan…" Kyle moans, running his hands through my hair. "You certainl- mmmm- Know-nhhhh- What you're-ohhh- Doing... Mmmmm... Oh God Stan!!" Hehe…oh yes…I am Master of Kyle's Domain.

I continue to bob away happily on Kyle, smiling to let him know how I feel about his reactions. Utterly positive. Something else I could do all day…or at least as long as he could hold up. And there's ways to KEEP him holding up…thank you, Bob Dole!!

Soon enough, he grabs my hair tightly. I momentarily flinch, because it HURTS, but what he says is enough to distract me from my pain. "Mmmm... Oh God Stan, I'm gonna..." I know full well what he's going to do, and the warm fuzzies congratulate me on being the one to bring Kyle such pleasure instead of an over-made up whore and ten guys on an LCD screen.

I suck harder. I don't care what he does; I'm fixated on giving him the best orgasm of his young homosexual life. For him, I'll even swallow. Doc says I should eat more protein anyway…

He grabs on tighter, but this time I don't react at all, because he's climaxing and I have to concentrate on that. "STAN!!!" he screams as he comes, spurt after spurt hitting the back of my throat. "God, I love you so much," he says, laying back and gasping.

I pull off and swallow to clear my mouth, then lay next to him and smile. "Not nearly as much as I love you. Not bad, I must say..." I say, licking my lips.

He blushes. "Hehe... You're too sweet," he says, and runs his hand lightly across my cheek. "A side of you I'm glad to see, and with an honest smile on your face."

"It'll never leave, so long as you stay with me, Kyle," I reply. "Now...where's that homework?"

"That's something you'll never have to worry about!" he says, following my eye movements. "Oh right…the homework…"

"Ah, fuck the homework," I say. "We'll just say a lunar eclipse burned it up. I didn't wanna write a sonnet anyway." Because they suck, and because Shakespeare DESERVES to be burning in Hell.

"Oh, I'm sure that excuse will work," he replies sarcastically. "Well... What do you want to do?" he asks, propping himself up on his elbows and looking down at me.

"Well, unless you feel like reciprocating from earlier, we could just...cuddle," I say. "I'm tired..."

He flushes quite suddenly. It's his embarrassed flush. I've just gotta look for the…yep, there go the shifty eyes. "Ah. Well...it's not that I don't feel the same…but ... err... yeah... you're-tired-we-should-just-cuddle," he says. I can't help myself from smirking.

"It's OK if you're uncomfortable, Kyle," I say with a yawn. "...I'll teach you some other time."

"Thank you Stan," he replies. "Poor dear, you're tired, sleep is good now." Damn right it is…

"Yes. Sleep," I say, snuggling up to Kyle's still-naked form. I will have VERY good dreams tonight. "G'night, my love!"

"Night, my dear!" is the last thing I hear before I'm out like a light.